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Sitat av Daisuk Vis innlegg
Kanskje litt teit å dra opp en så gammel tråd igjen, men jeg har nettopp skrevet et dikt om denne hendelsen (skal senere bli en slags spoken word greie), så tenkte jeg kunne poste det her;

three white dots floating in the air
down below
girders from constructions swinging and directing the sun to blind the passers by
and knocking one lunch eating guy down into certain death
and back to the wheel to see the others
and again the "aha!" and the "how could I forget?"
and the simultaneous puffs of black smoke from the heads
and the wheel turning, and each candle re-surfacing one at a time
before going out and back again
and again the hanging from the arches of brilliant light
over the dark orange crackling fire spawning
the realization that it's as deep when you zoom in as it is when you zoom out
and the fragile river. and its suggestions,
and voices explaining why the sounds smell and the grass is laughing
and notes hanging like ripe fruit in the thick thick air
with that swallowing cold spark still dripping
on the swirling majestic Goddess
with her veins and branches and lines from pencils going off the page
and she's so beautiful
on the stones that turn to dust
and the dust flies away breathing time
and we breathe with it
and we are it
and we are her
and we are time
and the white dots floating in the air again

--

oooh, så poetisk! hehehehe.
Vis hele sitatet...
Sitter akkurat
nå å hører på Jim Morrison, An American prayer
din lyrick passer perfect in